


affogato

by iphido



Series: sabor a mí [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Facials, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, homoerotic shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphido/pseuds/iphido
Summary: “Hold still,” Keiji said, voice barely above a whisper, and made the first stroke.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: sabor a mí [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786636
Comments: 27
Kudos: 512





	affogato

**Author's Note:**

> thanks 2 rachel for helping me with the title. it holds no relevance, it's just sexy. this is technically hungerverse, but it's just porn so you don't need to know anything about the previous story. enjoy ;-)

It took Osamu about two minutes to realize something was different this time around.

“Keiji?” he said, pulling away. He licked his lips. Keiji, propped up on his elbows and staring at Osamu between his legs, was frowning. His face was flushed but pinched. More importantly, he wasn’t making the pleased, choked noises he did whenever Osamu ate him out, which was never a good sign. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

“When was the last time you shaved?”

Osamu thought back. “Two days ago, I think.”

Keiji rubbed the hand Osamu had wrapped around his thigh. “Your face itches.”

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry, baby.”

“That’s okay.” Keiji didn’t move. He just stared at Osamu and tapped his fingers absentmindedly against Osamu’s own, his dick softening. He brushed Osamu’s fringe back with a gentle touch. “I have an idea.”

“You and yer ideas,” Osamu said. He was already moving to stand.

Keiji tugged his shorts back on and hopped off the bed. He linked their pinkies together and guided them to the bathroom, then bent to open the cabinet under the sink. “Wash your face.”

“So bossy,” Osamu said. He splashed some water, pumped some Biore into his palm, scrubbed, and rinsed. Straightening, he patted his face dry with the soft white towel from Daiso.

Keiji was filling a plastic basin with warm water. On the counter sat Osamu’s razor with the green handle, the shaving cream, and the aftershave. A thrill went down his spine at the realization of what was about to happen.

Satisfied, Keiji shut the water off. He took Osamu by the shoulders and spun him around so his back was against the counter. “Is this alright with you?” Keiji asked.

“Yes.” He tried not to say it too quickly, but judging from Keiji’s half-smirk, he’d failed.

Keiji took the shaving cream and opened the cap. The foam piled high on his fingers, held flat together. “Look up.”

Osamu obeyed. The cream was cold and soft on his cheek, administered by Keiji’s gentle hands. Keiji spread it over Osamu’s jaw, cheek, upper lip—a little down his neck. Keiji rinsed his hand under the running water, wiped it on a towel, and stared at Osamu. “Heh.”

“What’s funny?”

“Santa-san,” Keiji said, wrinkling his nose.

Osamu grabbed Keiji’s waist and lunged forward. “Well, Santa-san wants to kiss ya.”

Keiji swatted his hands away. “No, I have to shave you.”

“Fine, fine.” He leaned back against the sink and waited. Keiji picked up the razor and stepped close, warming Osamu’s front. A hand curled around his nape.

“Hold still,” Keiji said, voice barely above a whisper, and made the first stroke.

Osamu almost closed his eyes, but he didn’t want to miss a second of it. Keiji always looked so serious when he concentrated. His slate green eyes were intent and sharp; his mouth was a flat line. The razor glided down the left side of Osamu’s face, smooth and careful. He wasn’t worried in the slightest about getting nicked.

The blade left. Keiji reached over to submerge it into the pitcher, washing away the cream, then got back to work. Finished with one side, he tapped Osamu’s cheek. “Suck your lips in.”

Osamu did. The hand on his neck tightened. Diligently, the razor ran over his upper lip, disappeared, then glided down his chin. He hardly breathed.

Keiji eased back when the middle was done. “Halfway there.” He was gorgeous. Osamu couldn’t resist. He held Keiji’s hips and ground forward, eliciting a gasp.

“Samu!” Keiji snapped, hands flying away. He narrowed his eyes. Then he grabbed Osamu’s naked jaw, pressed him into the counter, and hissed, “I said _hold still_.”

“Yessir,” Osamu croaked. He definitely wasn’t imagining the forceful drag of the next swipe. He was allowed to keep his hands where they were, though, loose on Keiji’s pelvis. He tilted his head when instructed to, as Keiji cleared the cream from the right side of his face. Their breathing was deep and deafening in their tiny bathroom; their chests brushed against one another.

The razor slid along Osamu’s jaw, right below his ear. Keiji pulled back, turned Osamu’s head this way and that, and nodded to himself. “Wait a moment.” He reached for one of the washcloths hanging from the rung, ran it under cold water, and patted it on Osamu’s jaw. All Osamu could do was stare.

Keiji wrung out the washcloth and set it next to the bowl. He picked up the aftershave, trickled some into his palm, and rubbed his hands together. Osamu lifted his chin and let Keiji run his hands over him. Broad lines along the planes of his cheeks, rivulets down his neck. Keiji’s fingers were long and methodical.

“All done,” Keiji said after a minute.

Osamu turned to check the mirror. The slight shadow was gone and his own tan skin glistened. He touched a smooth cheek. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome.” Keiji was staring at Osamu’s reflection, biting a lip.

He turned back around and waited. Keiji’s eyes raked over his face.

“Are you going to finish what you started?” Keiji finally whispered.

Osamu darted forward and kissed him, clean-shaven. Keiji flung his arms around Osamu’s neck and jerked his crotch against him, a silent request. What else could Osamu do but comply?

He lifted Keiji by the backs of his thighs and spun them around, seating him onto the counter. Keiji grunted into Osamu’s mouth and pawed at his shoulders. Osamu broke off and hooked two thumbs into Keiji’s shorts and started to pull.

“Bedroom,” Keiji whined, though he was already wiggling his hips to make it easier.

“Ya want me to stop?” Osamu tugged the shorts from Keiji’s ankles and knelt.

“Never,” said Keiji. He was already half-hard.

Osamu brought his face close to Keiji’s entrance and looked into his eyes. Keiji’s breaths were coming rapid and shallow. A strange ardor snaked around Osamu’s throat and squeezed, unyielding. “I love you,” he said. At Keiji’s answering groan, he started to lick.

He afforded no mercy. He swirled his tongue around Keiji’s hole, ran the flat of his tongue over the puckering rim, prodded the tip inside and grinned when Keiji pulled his hair in response. “Fuck, Samu, fuck,” Keiji moaned. “Oh fuck, don’t stop.”

Osamu gripped Keiji’s thighs harder and thrusted his tongue in-and-out, drinking in the sounds spilling from Keiji’s mouth. “Yes, yes, ugh, fuck, _fucking fuck_.” He loved that Keiji only got vulgar when they got naked, the fact that these curses were for his ears only.

He wrapped his lips around Keiji’s hole and _sucked_ and Keiji thrashed so violently he almost fell off the counter. Osamu held his hips tight. “Hold _still_ ,” he said, relinquishing his attack for a moment, then resumed.

“Ugh, _God_ ,” gasped Keiji. Osamu heard him fumble for something on the counter, and looking up, Keiji had grabbed some lotion and started to jerk. “Keep going, I wanna come.”

So he continued his unforgiving rhythm, alternating between licks and thrusts and sucks, and Keiji’s furious jacking got louder and his moaning turned into incoherent keens, and when Osamu slid his hands inward and brushed a thumb against Keiji it was over.

Keiji slammed his head back against the mirror so hard that Osamu was almost worried. “Fuck, _fuck_! Fuck.” Keiji’s ass spasmed, pink and sweet. He came into his hand and heaved. “God, Osamu, come here.”

Osamu stood and kissed him desperately. Keiji wiped his hand on the washcloth and pushed off the counter, forcing Osamu backwards until his back hit the bathroom door. Keiji got to his knees and pulled Osamu’s sweats down, gripped his cock, took him into the precious heat of his mouth.

“Oh shit oh hell fuckin’ goddamnit Keiji,” he spewed. Keiji blew him with a vengeance, like a champ, with all the fervor Osamu had had for him. He buried a hand in Keiji’s hair and tried to keep his legs upright below him. His groans filled the room. He brushed back the hair on Keiji’s forehead, and their eyes met, dark with desire. “Look so—oh fuck—so pretty like this, Keiji. Could stare at you all day, baby.”

Keiji whined around him, released him with a choked sound, and almost— nuzzled his cock. “Tell me when you’re close, I want you to come on my face,” Keiji said before sucking again.

God almighty. “Shit. Shit. Fuck, Keiji, yeah, just like that.” He cupped Keiji’s head and bucked a little, then bucked again at Keiji’s pleased noise. The head of his cock rubbed the inside of Keiji’s cheek and he cursed. “Now, baby.”

Keiji lifted off and moaned. He pumped quickly, kept his mouth closed and his eyes trained on Osamu’s. Osamu was going to go insane. “Come on, Samu,” Keiji said, lips barely moving. “Don’t you want to paint my face?”

With that he was gone. Osamu seized and pretty much saw God, watching the streaks of white spurt on Keiji’s cheeks. Keiji relaxed in bliss. Osamu hoped he wasn’t gripping his hair too hard.

Once his thighs stopped shaking, he dropped to his knees and kissed Keiji. Keiji held on to his wrists and whimpered. This man would be the death of him.

“I’m yours,” Keiji murmured between kisses. “I’m yours, Samu.”

“And I’m yours.” He opened his eyes and looked at Keiji’s face, beautiful and filthy. “Let’s get ya cleaned up.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this filth. join osaaka nation
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/iphido)


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